CORV: Sirrah, you think the privilege of the place,
And your red saucy cap, that seems to me
Nail'd to your jolt-head with those two chequines,
Can warrant your abuses; come you hither:
You shall perceive, sir, I dare beat you; approach.
VOLP: No haste, sir, I do know your valour well,
Since you durst publish what you are, sir.
CORV: Tarry,
I'd speak with you.
VOLP: Sir, sir, another time--
CORV: Nay, now.
VOLP: O lord, sir! I were a wise man,
Would stand the fury of a distracted cuckold.
[AS HE IS RUNNING OFF, RE-ENTER MOSCA.]
CORB: What, come again!
VOLP: Upon 'em, Mosca; save me.
CORB: The air's infected where he breathes.
CORV: Let's fly him.
[EXEUNT CORV. AND CORB.]
VOLP: Excellent basilisk! turn upon the vulture.
[ENTER VOLTORE.]
VOLT: Well, flesh-fly, it is summer with you now;
Your winter will come on.
MOS: Good advocate,
Prithee not rail, nor threaten out of place thus;
Thou'lt make a solecism, as madam says.
Get you a biggin more, your brain breaks loose.
[EXIT.]
VOLT: Well, sir.
VOLP: Would you have me beat the insolent slave,
Throw dirt upon his first good clothes?
VOLT: This same
Is doubtless some familiar.
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